


Viewpoints

by EffieA



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Slavery, Young Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieA/pseuds/EffieA
Summary: "Since the beginning he'd occasionally get on the older Ravager's nerves but underneath the roughness Peter could always tell that Kraglin liked him, at least a little bit. It was only in the last half year or so that things had begun to change and it didn't make any sense."Kraglin and Peter get stuck on a planet with no money.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Peter is 11 in this and Kraglin about 21.

“There you are!” Kraglin says as he approaches the boy from behind and grabs his shoulder, digging his fingers in hard.

“Ouch! What the-” Peter exclaims as he jumps up from the bench he'd been sitting on.

“Where the hell have ya been? I've been all over this Nova shit-hole looking for you and the rest of 'em have gone back t' the _Eclector._ ”

“It's not a shit-hole! It's a pretty nice place unlike most of the stupid planets you guys drag me to. It has parks and stuff! I went to look around and when I got back everyone was gone. I just wanted to see something besides bars and pawn shops for once.”

Kraglin bites his lip and resists the urge to slap the ungrateful brat. “And where's your comm, huh?”

Peter looks down at his boots. “Well... On the ship. But-”

“Shuddup. I gotta call the cap'n.”

***

Peter sits back down on the bench and fixes the headphones that had slipped off his ears. He glares at Kraglin's back as the Xandarian talks into his com device. He knows he messed up by wandering off and that he'd have to face Yondu when they get back to the ship, but he can't understand why Kraglin is suddenly taking everything Peter did so personally. Since the beginning he'd occasionally get on the older Ravager's nerves but underneath the roughness Peter could always tell that Kraglin liked him, at least a little bit. It was only in the last half year or so that things had begun to change and it didn't make any sense. Peter was just getting to the point where he could pull his own weight on the ship; he helps steal stuff and pull cons and is learning to shoot, fly an M-ship and fight. He knew that Yondu is sometimes even proud of him, though it’s never said aloud, and the crew seems to mind him a lot less now (except the few who've inexplicably hated him from the beginning, like Horuz) but Kraglin's tolerance for his antics seems to be steadily decreasing.

He'd hoped that connecting with Yondu and arranging a pick-up would relieve the tension but when Kraglin turns around his fists are clenched and his face white and Peter knows something isn’t right.

***

Kraglin dials the captain's personal comm.

It's an audio only link and the first words that come through are too garbled to understand. Then Yondu's voice gets through but it breaks up a little, like the connection's not so great. “- and you better be calling 'cause you found Quill.”

“Yes, Cap'n. We's here between the port and the city center.”

“Right. Keep an eye on 'im. Make sure he don't get into any trouble, ya hear?”

“Uh, a’ course, sir. But if you'd tell me who's comin' for us and where we should meet-”

“Didn't ya hear me? We're headed to the job-” It breaks up again. “-time sensitive.”

“Cap'n, what? Wait-”

“- a week tops. Keep your comm on and-”

“Boss, wait!” But the call ends.

Kraglin tries to take a deep breath to calm himself. Stranded. On this planet of all places. Stranded with Peter and for up to a week? When they picked up Peter, Kraglin was just a rookie working in the kitchen and now he’s a junior bridge officer and for the first time he wants to hurt the kid. Both for causing this disaster and for his general attitude. Doesn't the brat know that a vast number of people in the universe would do unspeakable things for a life like his? It may not be perfect but he has regular meals, relative safety, a secure job and people willing to train him to succeed at said job despite his being a weak and tiny Terran. He even has his own damn room, something that Kraglin has never had and probably never will. A dark and bitter part of him thinks situations like this could be prevented if Yondu would just beat the kid when he screws up. He knows the crew assumes that's already what happens and why wouldn't they? It's how most of them were dealt with growing up. He also knows that Yondu's reasons for not doing so probably have more to do with his past than anything else. It's not something that's ever spoken about openly but everyone on the ship knows not to complain about bad childhoods in front of the captain. Well, everyone but Quill, but when he does run his mouth Yondu usually just responds with an eye-roll, a scoff and a bit of a smile as if he's happy to hear the kid make flip comments about being made to scrub the bridge or whatever. It doesn't make much sense. Maybe Yondu has the right idea, though. Kraglin regularly got the crap kicked out of him and it certainly hadn't helped his behavior any. He shudders. If he tries he can still see his dad standing in the doorway blocking most of the light with a bottle of booze in one hand and eyes full of pent-up anger. He takes another shaky breath. He has got to get a grip.

“Kraglin,” Peter says hesitantly. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong, kid, is that we're stuck here. The crew's gone on to the next job. Cap'n says it'll be a week or maybe a bit less 'til they come back for us.” He manages to keep his voice flat and neutral.

“What?! Whoa. A whole week! What are we supposed to do?” To Kraglin's surprise and slight irritation, Peter doesn't look all that distressed at the prospect.

“I'm workin' on it.” Now that he's calmed down, the plan comes easily. They'll get a room in a cheap but decent hotel in an okay area and hole up there until the captain calls. He'll get some video games and candy for Peter and an impressive supply of alcohol for himself. When they need to get out they can head to a bar, casino, racetrack or basically anywhere he can keep an eye on the kid and still drink. Yeah, that should be doable. Yondu may or may not reimburse him for Peter's expenses; that kind of thing is always hard to predict with him. He starts searching in his jumpsuit pockets for his account chip. “OK, Quill, so what we gonna do is-” He stops because it isn't in either of the main pockets and he’s about to start looking in the smaller ones when he remembers how he'd been wearing a coat when he departed the Elector but left it on the M-ship because of the mild weather. The coat that has his bank account chip in one of the pockets.

“Uh, Kraglin?”

Shit. Shit. _Shit._ He's stuck in a place he promised himself he’d never return to with an obnoxious Terran and no money. A normal person could just go to a bank branch and use their bio signature to access their account, but not someone with multiple bounties and warrants. He's not sure if there's anything out on him in the Nova Empire but it's better not to risk it. Damn, there's only one real solution and it involves messaging Yondu and asking him to wire them some money. It’ll be humiliating even given the circumstances, but the captain wants the boy taken care of and-

“Kraglin, come on. Can’t we go? It's boring here and the sun’s going down.

“Hold tight for a minute,” Kraglin says distractedly. That connection earlier was terrible so it would have to be a text only message-

“But what’re we doing standing around for?”

“Kid-”

“I’ve been waiting here the whole time! I thought you were supposed to be handling things!”

Kraglin feels the fragile control he’d been exerting over his emotional chaos collapse around him. That’s it. Kid needs to learn stuff. He deactivates the comm and turns toward Quill. “Ya wanna go? Alright, we’ll go.” He grabs the boy’s arm and pulls him in the direction of the space port across the large square. “C’mon. Get moving.”

“OK, I am! Chill out.”

Kraglin scowls. “Got any money on you?”

“Yondu controls my account. You know that.”

"I don't have none either. Maybe a few units and that’s it. Account chip is on the M-ship.”

“Can’t Yondu-”

“No, he can’t ‘cause he’s got more important stuff to deal with. We’re lucky Cap’n’s gonna come back at all. He don’t gotta.”

“Well, then, can’t we steal stuff?” Peter asks. Kraglin snorts at that.

“We can here and there, yeah, but we gotta be careful. We ain’t got no back-up and this place is a Xandarian outpost so it’s crawlin’ with Nova Corps.”

Peter stops and grabs Kraglin’s wrist. “Are- are we gonna be OK?” He looks at the boy’s wide eyes and feels his anger cool slightly. 

“Hey, we’ll be fine, Pete. Just listen to me and do what I say, got it?”

“Yeah, OK.”

“C’mon then, we gotta keep going.” It’s twilight by the time they get to the ground level of the hulking port building and once inside Kraglin directs Peter to a quiet wing of the building filled with benches and lockers. “Here,” opening one of the small doors. “Take off your jacket.”

“Huh? Why?”

“We can’t be too obvious with the leathers and flames and stuff, and not only ‘cause of the Corps. There’s bounty hunters around too.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “What about you then?”

“I can’t take off my jumpsuit and walk around in my undies, can I?” He smiles a bit at the kid’s giggle. “I’ll figure something out later. C’mon, it’ll be dark soon.”

“But it’s cold outside.”

“Not cold enough to kill you.”

“But-”

“Peter, ya said you’d listen.” The boy glares but then nods, removes his jacket and shoves it into the locker. They take a lift up to where trains depart for all parts of the city. It’s no longer rush hour so Kraglin waits for a quiet moment and climbs over the turnstile. “Need me to give ya a hand?” Quill shakes his head and awkwardly pulls himself up and over, earning a dirty look from an old Xeronian woman exiting with a bag full of groceries. Kraglin doesn’t need to look at the maps on the walls to know which line to take. They wait in silence on the platform with a few tired-looking locals and when their train comes they enter a mostly empty compartment and Kraglin pushes Peter toward a window seat and sits next to him. 

“Hey, Krags?”

“Yeah?”

“You seem to know this place pretty well.”

Kraglin groans but decides there’s no point in lying. No one can say the kid isn’t sharp. “Well, I should. Lived here almost seven years.” Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Wait, this is you're from?”

“Nah, before that I lived on an asteroid mining colony with my aunt ‘til she died. Don’t really consider that home neither.”

Peter is silent for a few minutes and he runs his fingers over the grimy windows. “Oh,” he says finally. “So, the _Eclector’s_ your home then?” 

Kraglin allows himself a smile as he ruffles the boy’s hair. “Yep, guess it is. The closest thing I got to one, anyway."

There's another moment of silence. “Guess it’s mine too.”

“Oh yeah?” That’s the first time he’s heard Quill say anything like that.

“Yeah,” Peter says with a yawn. Kraglin estimates they have another 15 minutes until their destination so when the boy rests his head on the Xandarian’s bony shoulder, he doesn’t shake him off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kraglin steals someone's (Xandarian equivalent of) Starbucks order.

Kraglin regrets letting the boy sleep because when he gets off the train it’s with a cranky, uncooperative bundle of lanky limbs. “Hurry yourself up, Quill, it’s dark and this area ain’t the friendliest,” he reminds him for the third time as they navigate through narrow alleyways, occasionally making wrong turns and having to go back because, after all, it’s been a few years. 

“Then why are we here? This place is super creepy. I liked where we were before better.” 

Kraglin looks around the neighborhood they’re prowling through. Admittedly, it does look rather sketchy at night what with the amount of boarded up buildings and uncollected trash and the general lack of proper lighting. “If we’d tried to find somewhere to sleep back there someone would’ve come an’ arrested us. It’ll be a lot easier here. Nobody cares what you do in the lower sectors.”

“And where exactly are we gonna find somewhere decent here?” The boy asks imperiously with a pointed stare.

“Look here, you uppity little shit, you said you’d follow my orders and you’re doin’ a shit job of it so far. Shut that mouth of yours and try an’ keep up.”

Peter glares up at him. “I’m tired of following orders.”

Kraglin rolls his eyes even though he knows Peter won’t notice in the dark. “That’s funny because it seems to be a pretty rare occurrence.” 

“Well, when I’m older I’m gonna go off on my own and then I won’t have to listen to anybody.”

“Oh yeah, and how’ll you support yourself, huh? Being freelance ain’t as easy as you’d think and you need a lot a’ money to get started. And I can tell ya from experience that any job the likes of us can get will involve just as many orders and a lot less fun.” He tries to imagine Quill working in a mine or a factory. Even a repair shop. Good luck with that, kid. 

“That won’t matter any because I’ll be a captain and have my own ship and crew and everything.” 

Kraglin raises an eyebrow. Well, this is new. Who the hell put that in his head? “Oh, you will, will ya?”

“Yep, and when you see me you’ll have to call me Cap’n,” Peter manages a not-too-shabby impression of the other’s accent. 

Kraglin stops walking. He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder and yanks him around so they’re face to face. “Now you listen to me. That ain’t _never_ gonna happen.” Instead of the petulant reply he was expecting, Peter narrows his eyes and smirks. It’s a disturbingly familiar expression on entirely the wrong face. 

“Guess I’d have to throw you out the airlock then.”

Despite himself, Kraglin has to repress a shudder. He lets the boy go. “Oh, you’re Yondu’s all right,” he mutters. 

“Yondu’s what?”

“Uh. Problem.”

“I thought I'm your problem right now?”

“Ain’t that the truth. C’mon then, tha’s enough messin’ around.”

“You’re the one who stopped!”

“Just keep walking, Pete.”

***

Peter wakes up to the harsh glare of sunlight. That’s not right. There definitely shouldn’t be any kind of natural light in the small room he sleeps in on the Eclector, which doesn’t have a light source at all besides the little battery-powered lamp he keeps by the mattress. The wall he’s touching is wrong too; it’s rough and clammy instead of smooth metal. He scooches backwards until he hits a barrier. It’s a person. He rolls over. Kraglin, to be exact. Suddenly he remembers where they are. “Hey, Kraglin, wake up!” He kicks at the sleeping Ravager but only gets a groan and a mumble in return.

Where they are is an alley between a large metal trash container and a wall. They’d finally stopped here after walking for what seemed like miles through what Kraglin called a “lower sector” and what Peter’s grandpa would’ve said was “the wrong side of the tracks.” Peter had suggested breaking into one of the abandoned buildings but Kraglin had shaken his head and muttered something about how they could stumble onto a drug lab and run afoul of a gang. So, when they’d stumbled across the big Dumpster-like bin in a dead-end alley, Kraglin had ignored Peter’s objections to the smell and pulled it away from the wall just enough to fit the two of them on a makeshift bed of flattened boxes. 

“Krags! C’mon, wake up. It’s morning!”

Kraglin swings an arm and whacks Peter in the face and then immediately buries his head in the crook of his elbow. “Urgh, go away, I’m not on first shift. Lemme sleep.” 

“Ow! You gave me a bloody nose!”

“Gef, I told ya a hundred times not to sleep next to me if you can’t shut the f-”

Peter kicks him harder this time. “Hey! Don’t call me Gef! It’s Quill and we’re not on the ship.”

Kraglin turns over slowly and opens one eye. “Pete…”

“Yeah.”

“Ha. I gave you a bloody nose.”

“Yeah, and it’s not funny! I don’t have anything to clean it with.” Peter says while pinching his nostrils.

“Use your sleeve.”

“That’s gross!”

“It grosser all over your face.”

“Ugh, fine. Anyway, I’m hungry. And thirsty.” Peter sits leaning against the wall and wraps his arms around his knees. 

“Yeah, me too.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Are we gonna get something to eat?”

Kraglin sits up and stretches. “Yeah, guess we better. You stay here and clean yourself up, though. I’ll bring something back.”

“Aww, I don’t wanna stay.”

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Peter grumbles but instead of arguing he puts his headphones on and presses play. 

***

Kraglin casts a wary eye around the street making a mental note of the closest public drinking fountains so he can send Peter to one. It’s a lot busier now that it’s daylight and there seems to be a lot going on despite the run-down surroundings. There are more businesses here than he remembers from before. It’s still poor but not as desperate. Yeah, this seems like a decent neighborhood to base themselves in, but he’ll need to find them somewhere better to sleep or the kid’s incessant complaining might do him in. 

He looks at the paper box he’s carrying that contains, he assumes, some kind of pastry. Hopefully there’s enough for both of them. He takes a sip of the hot beverage from the paper cup in his other hand and looks at the name scrawled on it. Whoever “Obri” is, they’ll be missing their breakfast he thinks with amusement. 

He’s not so distracted that he doesn’t notice someone approaching on his left, but it’s while he’s dropping the cup and reaching for his closest knife that something hits his head with considerable force. Then pain in his arm. Then, nothing. 

Then something. Voices in the darkness, anyway. 

_“Shit. He’s a Ravager!”_

_“So? He’s alone.”_

_“If there’s one, there’ll be more. We gotta get outa here.”_

_“He’s only got seven units anyway.”_

Then nothing again.

***

Peter walks to the mouth of the alley and looks both directions. Still no Kraglin. Five songs have already played on his tape. It shouldn’t take that long just to steal some food, should it? Kraglin said they had to be careful stealing here. What if he hadn't been? What if he’s in a Nova jail right now? Yondu might not be able to find Peter or even if he does, he might blame him for what happened to Kraglin and decide to leave him here. He'll be a street kid nobody cares about, stuck here on this planet where he doesn’t know a single person! He tries to control his breathing. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Calm down,” he says out loud. What is it Yondu always saying? If you ain't dead, you can do something. “I can do something.” OK, he has to go look for him. 

He has no idea which way Kraglin went when he left their alley so Peter starts by going right. After going a few blocks, he can tell that the neighborhood in that direction is becoming more and more residential so he decides to double back. 

Peter had only gone two blocks past the alley where they’d slept when he sees a familiar figure hunched over in an unused doorway. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was just a passed-out drunk person, but as he runs closer he can see the blue blood soaking the left side of Kraglin’s jumpsuit.


	3. Chapter 3

“Kraglin!” Peter grabs the unresponsive man.  He resists a growing wave of panic as he unzips the jumpsuit. It’s certainly not the first time he’s been faced with a wounded crew member but he’s never had to be the one to take charge. To his immense relief, the blood isn’t coming from Kraglin’s chest or stomach but from his arm. Peter frowns. It’s a nasty-looking cut but it doesn’t appear to have caused a life-threatening amount of blood loss. Yet. He looks around frantically until he finds a plastic bag he can wrap around the wound. He gets it as tight as he can and as he’s tying it Kraglin moans and moves slightly. “Come on, wake up!”

Nothing more happens and Peter glances around. His first inclination is to find a public hospital, but he knows that Kraglin wouldn’t appreciate getting healed only to be arrested by the Nova Corps. Without money, the more discrete private clinics will never accept them so hospitals will have to be a last resort. A few people have stopped and watched for a few moments before moving on but no one has come over to help. He’s beginning to think that maybe Kraglin was right about this being a shitty planet. It’s then that he sees the comm lying on the ground. He can call for help, but who? Even if Yondu would come, the _Eclector_ is somewhere on the other side of the galaxy and they’d never make it in time. He grabs the device and selects the contacts list and runs a search using the current location. Kraglin said he lived here for seven years; there must be someone here who will help. The search seems to take forever but finally one contact appears. To his disappointment, there’s no com number only a name and address but when he checks the location the map shows it’s in the same district they’re in. He checks Kraglin again and once he’s convinced that his condition hasn’t changed for the worse he takes a deep breath. One name and address isn’t a lot to go on, but he’s got to try to get help.

It takes Peter about 15 minutes to get to the location using the map on the comm. The streets here are narrow and confusing and he gets turned around a few times before ending up on a busy avenue flanking a market. The entire street is filled with shops and eateries and it’s one of the latter that he finds himself facing. It’s not a very big place. The whole front is open and there are tables inside and out. A folding sign advertises today’s lunch specials which include “Fresh Oorganian _Marhulas_ ” and “Grilled _Baaki-Baaki_.”

Peter peers inside the restaurant. He really hopes this is someone Kraglin actually knows and not just a business contact. “Um, hello? Is anyone there.”

“We don’t open for another half-hour,” a deep voice calls out from the interior.

“I’m not here for that,” says Peter and he cautiously walks inside where he sees a bald Aakon, who’s maybe a few years older than Kraglin, wiping down the counter.

“What do you want then?” The man asks. He’s clearly eying Peter’s disheveled hair and dirty clothes but he doesn’t immediately order him out, which is something.

"Are you Miron Daaku?"

"That's right."

“Do- do you know someone named Kraglin, um, Kraglin Obfonteri? He’s Xandarian.”

The man frowns slightly. “Why do you ask?” Well, it’s not a no.

“If you know him, you gotta help! He’s hurt and, uh, I’m not sure what to do. He’s been stabbed, I think, ‘cause there aren’t any plasma burns, but there must something else wrong too. He’s mostly unconscious. Please, he’s not far from here. _Please._ ” Peter feels his voice become thin and desperate.

“Is that right?” At Peter’s vigorous nod he sighs. “And how are you connected to Kraglin Obfonteri?”

Peter fidgets nervously. “Um.”

“Yes?”

***

Kraglin’s head hurts. Kraglin’s head hurts a lot. He’s trying to figure out why he has such a bad hangover when his memories flood back in fragments. Stranded. With Quill. Attacked?

“Are you awake? You should try to drink some water if you can.”

It’s a familiar voice. He opens one eye and then promptly shuts it again because the light feels like hammers hitting his skull. He’s on a bed in a small cluttered apartment and a yellow-skinned person is standing above him. “Miron?”

“Yes, and you’re lucky your brother found me in time.”

That makes Kraglin wake up a little more. “He’s not… he’s just… that asshole’s bastard.

“I know you despise your father, but you shouldn’t speak about the boy like that,” Miron says sharply. “He clearly has enough issues. For one thing, he’s a little too adept at identifying wounds for someone who can’t be more than 12 Xandarian cycles. He also told me you’ve been sleeping in an alley.”

“For one night… damned soft brat. How many times did we sleep on the street?”

Miron ignores him. “You need more rest. You were cut by one of those A'askavarian poison daggers.” Through squinted eyes he sees Miron place two bright orange pills and a bowl of broth next to a jug of water on the bedside table. “Take the tablets before you fall asleep.” The Aakon moves to draw back the curtain around the sleeping area.

“Is Peter-?”

“He’s fine.”

***

Peter takes another bite of fruit-filled pastry. Miron had gone upstairs to check on Kraglin and Peter had gone out to explore the market. After they’d brought Kraglin back in a taxi, Peter had fallen asleep in the restaurant’s storage room. When he’d woken up he found that Miron had given him some blankets and a pillow. When he’d wandered into the main room the last of the lunchtime customers were finishing up and the proprietor had greeted Peter with a smile and told him to wait downstairs while he gave Kraglin some medicine. He’d wanted to go see Kraglin too, but he decided it would be bad manners to argue with the guy who had just done so much for them. Peter waited until Miron had gone up the stairs before darting across the street and into the bustling marketplace. The smell of food had been impossible to resist and the crowds had made it easy to snatch something from a busy stall. He’s considering going back for another pastry, maybe a savory one, when he’s grabbed by strong yellow arms.

“There you are!”

“Oh. Hi,” Peter says guiltily. He knows he shouldn’t wander off and cause trouble but he can’t seem to stop doing it.

“You can’t just wander off!” Miron says once they’re facing each other. Peter tries not to smile at the predictable admonition. “And where did you get that?” He’s pointing at the half-eaten pastry.

“Uh…”

“You stole it.”

“Um. Yeah.” There’s really no point in lying, Peter concludes.

Miron looks at him sternly but doesn’t yell. “No more of that while you’re here, all right?”

“OK.” For the first time in years Peter feels ashamed of stealing. He’d had a hard time with it in the beginning knowing what his mom would think, but thieving had become such a mundane part of his life. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry at you. When did you eat last?”

“Oh, uh, yesterday morning.” He gets a dark look at that so he continues quickly. “But it’s really not Kraglin’s fault! It’s was just a lot of bad luck.”

“You don’t normally have to steal in order to eat?” Miron asks. Peter shakes his head.

“Hm. Let’s get back and get you some real food.”

***

“Hey, wake up!” Kraglin wakes up to Quill shouting in his ear. “C’mon, I would shake you, but you’re wounded!” If it wasn’t for the fact that his arm still hurts, he’d have a hard time not throttling the brat. But at least his head isn’t throbbing anymore.

“Pete, I might not be able to hurt ya much now, but that’ll change soon,” he growls. The noise momentarily stops.

“Well, Miron said I had to wake you and that you have to take these pills. He also said it'll be easier going now because the poison should be out of your system. Your injuries aren't really that bad. Oh, and it’s night now.”

Kraglin glances at the window on the other side of the room. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Peter sits on the chair next to the bed and continues without acknowledging his sarcasm. “You have to recover as much possible tonight because Miron’s family is coming back tomorrow and they’ll need this room back.”

“Family? Arzu?”

“Yeah, I think that’s his wife’s name. And they have a son.” Peter looks around the space with wide eyes. “I think they only have this one room?”

“What’s so surprising about that?”

“Oh, nothing, I guess.” Peter reaches over to put the medicine on the end table and Kraglin takes the opportunity to grab him by the ear.

“Why the hell did ya tell him you’re my brother?”

“Ow! What was I supposed to say? That you're one of the people who abducted me?”

“Hmph.” He releases the ear. The kid may have a point. “What else did ya say? 'Bout the Ravagers and such.”

“Well, he saw your jumpsuit, of course, and he asked me about it. To be honest, he didn’t seem too surprised. But I said you got stuck with me when my mom died so you decided to quit.”

“ _What?!_ Like I’d do that!”

“I knew you wouldn’t like it but I couldn’t think of anything else on the spot.”

“Fine, but if that was the truth, I’d have dropped you at an orphanage or, I dunno, anywhere, before you could even blink,” he says with a glare.

Peter gives him a smirk in return. “Uh huh, well, Miron said you asked about me when you woke up so you must care a little.”

Kraglin throws a pillow with his good arm but it misses Peter by a wide margin. “Get the hell out!”

“Sure thing, _brother_.” The brat whips the curtain shut with a flourish.

“I’ll get you when I’m up, Peter! Don’t think I won’t!”


	4. Chapter 4

Kraglin walks into the dining room of Miron’s restaurant. It’s completely empty, which just as well since he’s wearing the laughably too-large t-shirt and shorts that he’d found folded up on the end of the bed. He looks around the room. All the chairs are upside-down on the tables and the shutters are pulled down over the doors and windows and they appear to be equipped with a biometric control system. He bristles a bit at that, what did the guy think Kraglin would do? Run off with the salt shakers? And what gave him the right to go off somewhere with Peter anyway? Well, saving your ass, for one thing. He pushes those thoughts away when he sees food on the counter and remembers just how hungry he is.

He’s halfway through the bowl of puffed-grain porridge when he hears the lock disengage and a familiar giggle. The shutter flies up and the doors open to reveal Miron with his arms full of parcels and Peter, who’s smiling down at his boots. Only they’re not his boots. The kid is still wearing his leather trousers and his blood-stained shirt (navy blue from Kraglin and reddish-brown from his own bloody nose) but on his tiny Terran feet are neon blue and orange sneakers with glittery silver soles. Peter notices Kraglin’s expression. “Pretty cool, huh? Most of the colors they had were boring but the lady found these for me in the back.”

Kraglin presses a hand to his forehead and turns to Miron. “You took him shopping? You bought him shoes?” He doesn’t add that the restaurant clearly isn’t raking in money or anything.

Miron gives Kraglin a sideways glance as he hands Peter a large paper bag. “He needed some clean clothes to change into.”

“Clothes, sure, but-”

“But you were going to steal him some?”

“Well, yeah, why not?” Kraglin feels his headache coming back.

“Like he needs more of that kind of example. The boots covered all of it and, anyway, everything except Peter’s shoes is second-hand.” He shoves a bag into Kraglin’s arms.

“The boots? Pete’s boots?” The custom-made leather boots that must have cost nearly 30 units. Kraglin looks at the garish shoes in horror. Yondu might literally kill him.

“I told you he’d be mad.” Peter looks from the Aakon to Kraglin and then down at his new shoes as if he’s considering stashing them somewhere for safekeeping.

“Yes, I sold them. They were nearly two sizes too big and that kind of heavy-duty footwear isn’t really necessary for a scrawny child, is it?”

Peter doesn’t look thrilled at that description but he doesn’t say anything to contradict his collaborator in what may as well be treason, as far as Kraglin's concerned.

“He was gonna grow into them eventually! I showed him how to stuff socks in there to make ‘em fit better.”

His old friend looks at him like he’s speaking Kree. “You should both get changed. I need to get ready to open. By the way, Peter says that the blood on his sleeve is his.”

Kraglin glares at Peter who at least looks chagrined. “It’s just from a bloody nose.”

“Yes, but it’s red.”

Oh, right. “Uh, yeah. Guess that’s from that floozy of a mother of his. Dunno know much about her and she weren’t nobody important or nothin'. Not sure of the species.”

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that!” Peter flings himself at Kraglin, but the latter keeps him at arm’s length with a practiced grip on the boy’s shoulder. He had forgotten how sensitive the kid could be about his parents, especially his dead mom. Peter gives up and stomps over to the back room with his new clothes. 

Miron opens his cold storage compartment and starts taking out vegetables and gives Kraglin a look that can’t be anything but disappointment. He’s not sure why it stings because it sure isn’t surprising. He had met Miron after he’d finally left his dad’s place for good at 15 and ended up squatting in a big house with a bunch of other teens just south of this district.The Aakon boy was a few years older and they'd stuck together from then on. Miron had grown up poor, sure, but he’d had parents who’d cared and kept him in school right up until they were killed by gang members looking for stuff to steal. It was no shock that he could manage to be judgmental now that he’d carved out a normal life for himself. Kraglin had never wanted a normal life, which is just as well because he’s not sure he’d even know where to start if he was thrown into this kind of existence. All he'd had wanted since he was a teenager hanging out in seedy bars on the outskirts of the city was independence and freedom. He’d made it happen, albeit not in the way he'd originally intended. Adolescent nuisances certainly hadn’t been part of the fantasy and damned if he knows why the captain is so attached to the Terran (not that Yondu would ever admit it) but even Peter Quill isn’t 100% terrible all the time. Miron looks him up and down. “I’m not going to lecture you, Kraglin. You always did say you wanted to go out into the stars and go on adventures and you somehow managed it," he says, echoing Kraglin's own thoughts. "Now you've given it up for your half-brother, so that’s something,” 

Great, Kraglin thinks, so the one thing he gets sort-of complimented on is a total lie. Not that he actually cares. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“That’s not exactly surprising to hear, but Peter really does care about you so you must be doing something right at least some of the time. Even if it's mostly accidental,” Miron says while Kraglin scowls. “What exactly are you intending to do with him anyway? I assume that living on the street and letting history repeat itself isn’t your actual plan.”

“Don’t worry, we got a place to go but we gotta wait ‘til the end of the week to get picked up. We can leave your place whenever, though, now that I’m pretty much fine. And, uh, thanks for that.” 

“I'm glad you have somewhere to go. You can stay here until you’re ready, but Arzu and Elo are coming back from her parents’ tonight so you’ll have to sleep down here. I hope that’ll be all right for Peter. He didn’t complain last night but I know it’s not ideal.”

“It’s fine!” Peter says cheerfully as he bursts into the room wearing bright yellow trousers and a black and white pullover that has a line drawing of a beach and says “Krylor” in a stylized script. “I normally sleep in a closet.”

_“Kraglin.”_

“It’s a large closet!”

***

Peter hums along to "Come and Get Your Love" while he peels strangle purple and yellow vegetables and listens to Kraglin curse as he struggles with the defective pipes under the sink behind the counter. After lunch Miron had closed up the restaurant and gone to pick up his wife and kid at the inter-city skytrain terminal on the edge of the city so Peter and Kraglin are doing what they can to help out. He's can't say that he enjoys the chores, but being part of such a normal, everyday kind of place is not so bad, especially since it's temporary. He does miss the _Eclector_ and he even misses being around Yondu, though he's not exactly sure why.

His thoughts are interrupted by banging on the door. "Um, we're closed!" Peter shouts.

"Oh come on, Miron, let me in! Or I'll give this nice bottle to your neighbor. The pretty pink haired one." Peter is about to go talk to the guy when the visitor checks the door and realizes it's unlocked. He's probably Xandarian, Peter decides after he gets a good look at him. He seems to be about Miron's age and he has a narrow face and brown hair. He looks pretty average, all things considered, expect that he's wearing the pristine blue uniform of a junior officer in the Nova Corps. He looks surprised to see Peter. "And who might you be?" He has a funny accent like the people who dress in old fashioned clothes and live in fancy houses in the TV shows his mom liked to watch. 

"Er, I'm-"

"What's goin' on?" Kraglin emerges from under the sink and turns to face the intruder. He stares. The bottle of sparkling wine the stranger is holding drops to the ground and explodes. 

"Saal." Kraglin regains his composure first but the other guy doesn't take long either. He glares at the broken bottle and the growing puddle of alcohol and then at the person addressing him. 

"Obfonteri."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter hates tense situations. Not that he thinks most people like them, but he associates this kind of sudden change in mood with, in no particular order, the horrible months leading up to his mother’s death, mechanical problems on a M-ship during a deep space flight and the realization that someone is about to be shot through with an arrow. Most of the time there’s not much he can do to help, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. He clips his headphones to his belt and jumps up from his chair. “Hi!”

The distraction seems to work because the man looks caught off guard. “Er, hello-”

"Keep quiet, Pete,” Kraglin says with a pointed look. Peter makes a face but he obeys.

“Who’s the boy, anyway? It’s not Miron’s is it? Is that what three-year-old half-Aakon sprogs look like?”

“No. Even I know that. Look, Miron went to pick up Arzu and the kid and then I think they’s doin’ some supply shopping. They’ll be back in a couple a’ hours so why don’t you come back later?” When we’ll be long gone, he doesn’t say, but Peter can tell it’s implied, which he finds disappointing. Sleeping here on the floor where they’re safe and surrounded by food is almost certainly preferable to whatever Kraglin will scrounge up for them. Hopefully not another alley.

The man’s lips curl into an arrogant smile. “Thanks for the suggestion, but don’t you think we ought to catch up?” It doesn’t look like Kraglin agrees, but he doesn’t offer any objections as Saal sits at Peter’s table and pushes the piles of vegetables and peelings to one corner.

“Hey kid, clean that up,” Kraglin says, pointing to the broken bottle on the floor. Normally, Peter would complain a bit at that, but Yondu says that it’s important to show a united front to enemies or those who might become enemies so he takes a trash bin and some rags and starts to clean the mess while only grumbling a little.

“Shouldn’t we have a drink?” The officer calls out, as Kraglin moves toward the table.

“It’s Miron’s-”

“I don’t think he’ll mind,” the strange man says, his mouth twitching slightly. “Aren’t we all old friends.” Peter looks him over. He’s encountered a lot of cruel people during his time in Yondu’s crew (and some before, too) and in his opinion this guy doesn’t fit the bill. It looks like he enjoys making Kraglin uncomfortable, though.

“Fine.” Kraglin rolls his eyes and bites his lip like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. “Pete. Beers.”

“But I’m not finished.” He’d picked up all the glass shards but the floor is still wet.

“Just do it.” His tone doesn’t leave much room for argument. Peter decides he’ll have to think of some way to get back at Kraglin for ordering him around so much, but for now he does as he’s told and grabs three beers from the cooler, only putting one back when he gets a death glare from the older Ravager. He takes a carbonated juice instead and carries them over to the table. “Miron didn’t mention you was back here,” Kraglin says as he sits.

“He doesn’t know yet. I’m here for a few weeks on an assignment under Denarian Luilo of the Major Crimes Division and-” He’s interrupted by Peter trying to stifle a giggle.

“Wha’s your problem?” Kraglin asks.

“It’s… he has an English accent.” Peter looks over to Kraglin, who’s obviously still confused. “He sounds all snobby and stuck-up,” he explains.

“Oh, well tha’s true enough.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “I think what you mean, young man, is that I sound like a normal, educated person.” He looks Peter up and down. “By the way, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Lt. Garthan Saal, and you are?”

Kraglin sighs. He’ll be glad when this part of the charade is over. “He’s my brother-”

“Peter Obfonteri,” Peter says.

Saal looks surprised. “Your drunk a-hole of a father remarried and legally registered another child?”

“No, he didn’t,” Kraglin says through gritted teeth before smacking Peter on the back of the head. “I told you not to call yourself that.” Damn it, Peter thinks. He knows that alien naming rules and conventions differ widely. Tullk, for example, has his mother’s clan name and Krylorians like Oblo use the name of the city or village of their birth as surnames. That was a stupid slip-up.

“Um, it’s Peter Quill,” he amends, cheeks flushed. “Quill is-was my mom’s name.”

The lieutenant obviously misinterprets Peter’s embarrassment because for a moment he looks sympathetic. “Ah well, someday you might appreciate having a name that's different from your brother's.” He eyes Kraglin. “While we're on this subject, am I to understand that you’re this child’s guardian?”

“Tha’s right. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, it looks to me like you’re mooching off Miron and Arzu, who can scarce afford it and-”

“It’s temporary, just a few days. We’re doin’ OK.”

Saal looks Kraglin up and down, taking in the ill-fitting civilian clothes and the disheveled hair. “If you say so,” he says, before taking a drink of beer. “Charming neck tattoos.” He adds.

Kraglin ignores the sarcasm. “Thanks.”

“It’s just sad, really, to see someone go from the Nova Corps to, well, this,” Saal says, gesturing at Kraglin with his beer can.

Peter’s bottle of juice slips from his fingers and he catches it just in time to keep it from spilling all over the table. _“WHAT?!”_ He has potential blackmail material on many of the _Eclector’s_ inhabitants, from Briqor’s habit of lifting bottles from the ship’s stock of booze to the fact that Horuz is hooking up with the new Calurnian navigator. He's even aware of the nightmares that occasionally send the captain sobbing into his pillow, fists wrapped around the bedding while he begs someone who’s not there to please stop, just stop. He'd never in a million years mention that last one to anyone, though. But this? This was on a whole other level. “You were in the Nova Corps? Seriously?”

“Peter, it’s-” Kraglin begins before Peter cuts him off.

“Does Yondu know?!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he realizes his mistake and sure enough Kraglin kicks him in the shin, hard. “Ow!” He looks up to see that it’s Saal’s turn to almost spill his drink.

“You mean…Yondu Udonta? The Ravager captain?”

“Uh, yeah.” Peter answers. He knows he has to think fast if he wants to salvage things. Kraglin just gapes at him. He looks like he wants to react but somehow can’t.

“And how, exactly, are you connected to Udonta?” Saal asks, eyes narrowed.

“Well, it’s Krags, really. He works-”

This time Kraglin responds, standing up so fast that his chair falls back with a crash. “Pete, shut the f-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because Saal stands up too and pulls out a pistol that he levels at the other man. “No, you shut up, Obfonteri. All right kid, continue.”

“Hey- But-” Peter glances from the calm Corps officer to Kraglin, whose face looks distorted by rage.

“I said continue.”

“OK-OK, just please-” He stops to take a deep breath. “I mean, Kraglin does stuff for ‘em sometimes.”

“Who? Udonta? The Ravagers?”

“Y-yeah," Peter lets his voice quiver. "Arranging things, mostly. Like if they need a buyer for something. Sometimes he gets them information and stuff too.”

Saal turns toward Kraglin. “Is that true? You’re working as a fence for a Ravager faction?”

The anger is mostly gone from Kraglin’s face and he glances at Peter with an unreadable expression before turning his attention back to Saal. “Yeah, here an’ there.”

“And for other unsavory types, I’m sure.” Saal says with a sigh, but he lowers his gun. “All right, sit down. That's not worth shooting you over. There's always so much paperwork afterwards.”

Peter decides that it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to change the topic of conversation. Plus, his curiosity was getting to be overwhelming. “OK, c’mon, tell me! Were you really in the Corps?”

Kraglin shakes his head as he pulls his chair upright. “Nah, not really. It were only the training part and I didn’t even finish.”

“What he means is that he was expelled from training for punching one of our classmates in the throat,” Saal says with distaste.

“You punched a guy in the throat?” Peter asks with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you just knife ‘im?” Kraglin can’t help but snicker at that.

Saal, on the other hand, makes a strangled sound and rests his head in one hand. He directs his glare toward Kraglin. “Yes, you’re an excellent choice to take care of a child. Why would anyone ever think otherwise?”

“It’s fine, really!” Peter says with a grin. “Most of the time.”

“Anyways, Miron was there too. It were his idea to join up in the first place.” Kraglin flicks his empty beer can and watches it roll around the table.

“Miron? What happened with him?" Peter asks. "I can’t see him punching a classmate…”

“His girl got pregnant and he quit so he could help out. Newly-graduated Corpsman can be sent anywhere in the Empire for their first two-year tour, including war zones. Those without connections, I mean.” He shoots a look at Saal, who manages to look a bit abashed. He had been based out of A’askavaria for his first tour, investigating starship thefts. “He started working here when this old Aakon guy still owned the place and when he could, he bought it.” Kraglin doesn’t add that the entire down payment came from him. Saal would just want to know where he got that kind of money. “Hey, Saal, speakin’ of Miron, we’s supposed to be helpin’ out. So if you’re satisfied…?

“Just one more thing.” Saal says as he produces a small data pad, which he waves in front of Kraglin. “OK, let’s see. Hmm, wanted for petty theft, breaking and entering and disturbing the peace.” Peter sees relief wash over the Ravager’s face. Luckily for them the last time Udonta’s crew had seriously operated in the Nova Empire, Kraglin had been far too junior to participate in any major jobs. The crimes on Saal's list had all occurred in the months before he joined the Ravagers. “Let’s see, those charges combined would get you minimum five years in a Nova jail, and that's not including the myriad of things we could pin to you due to your current line of work. I'm sure I'd find plenty if I were to investigate a little.”

“What?!” Shouts Peter. “Five years! That’s ridiculous!”

“Simmer down, Pete. You got a point with all this, Saal?”

The lieutenant pockets his data pad. “I’m not going to arrest you while you’re under Miron’s roof, if that’s what you’re worried about. However, I have a proposal for you. This assignment I’m on, well, it will be a massive boost for my career if I’m successful. I’m a bit stuck with the investigation just now, though. We’re going after this group of bounty hunters operating in Nova space illegally and we’ve been chasing them around without luck these past few months.”

“Illegal bounty hunting don’t sound like a career-making case to me,” Kraglin says.

“We also suspect they’re running a slavery ring, but nothing’s been proven. Personally, I suspect that corruption plays a part and that’s why they keep slipping through our fingers. Someone high up in Nova government might be pulling strings.”

Kraglin chews on his lip and nods. “Yeah, if that’s true, that would be huge. But wha’s this got to do with me? I dunno nothing about bounty hunting or the slave trade.” Which Peter knows is true, because bounty hunting was a bit below the Ravager paygrade and, as for slavery, Yondu would happily kill as many slavers as necessary before he’d ever work with them. Of course, he’d happily kill them anyway.

“You don’t need to know anything about it, but I want you to help me bust them. If you do, I’ll make sure your record gets wiped clean.”

“You want me to try and infil-infilerate- join them?”

“No, although you look exactly like the type of degenerate they'd want to hire. I want quick results so we don’t have time for that. We’ll fit you with a tracker and put a good-sized bounty on you. When you’re caught and taken to their current base, we’ll come and round them up. And release you and the other prisoners, of course.”

“Hm, that sounds like a lot a’ risk just for a wiped record.”

Saal shakes his head like he was expecting that answer. “And we’ll pay you. Let’s say 700 units? That should be enough for you to secure temporary housing and some clothes that fit.”

Kraglin leans forward. “How’s about 800?”

“Oh, you greedy bastard. OK, 750 and that’s as high as I’ll go.”

“Deal.”

“Right, then I’ll find you here when we’re ready. It should be in a day or two. It’s better if you don’t come to our office or have any comm contact with us.” Saal stands up.

“Fine with me.”

“Tell Miron and Arzu I’m sorry I missed them and I’ll be back around soon.” He says as he opens the door.

“Yeah, OK.”

“Whoa, you got a job!” Peter says when Saal is gone.               

“Yep, looks like it.” Kraglin says as he gets up to finish his sink project. He looks a bit dazed.

Peter glowers at the pile of vegetables. His brief respite was over. “So, can I help? It’s boring just sitting here doing nothing.” 

"Uh, nope, even if Saal would allow it and he wouldn’t.” He sorts through the pile of tools he left, looking for the right one.

“Oh, c’mon, just recon or something. Yondu would let me!”

“Well, I ain't Yon- er, I ain't the cap’n. Finish peelin’ them things.”

“Fine, but then I’m going to go outside and play.” Peter says and he slides his headphones over his ears. “Miron said you have to let me play because I’m a child and “children need unstructured free time.””

“I really don’t think your problem is too much structure, Pete.” But he’s smiling as he ducks under the sink.


	6. Chapter 6

Kraglin hums softly to himself as he pulls his boots on. He’s relieved to have a job to do, even one that basically amounts to being glorified bait. At least there’s a payday attached. “Aw, c’mon, can’t I come?” Peter whines from his spot on the floor surrounded by various scraps of paper and colored pencils. Three-year-old Elo scribbles cheerfully alongside him.

“Absolutely not. I may not be able to stop your brother from going along with this harebrained scheme, but you’re staying here,” Miron says sternly from behind the counter. The Aakon man and his family had returned not long after Saal had left the day before. He’d made his disapproval of the plan known when the Nova Corps officer had returned this morning with a tracker and a list of locations Kraglin should frequent in hopes of attracting the rogue bounty hunters.

“Well, I think it’s sweet that you want to help Kraglin.” A curly-haired woman says with a smile as she unfurls a tablecloth. “But Miron’s right, you’re safer here. Plus, I need your help.” Peter beams up at her. The boy had taken to her the moment he’d met her, something that’s probably related to the fact that Sirians are nearly identical to Terrans, physiologically-speaking. Arzu looks exactly as Kraglin remembers: short with big brown eyes and dimples. Also, pregnant. Kraglin shudders to himself. He can’t figure out why two seemingly intelligent people would choose to have another brat. Sure, the one they have might be small and fairly manageable right now, but that stage only lasts so long and then they move on to being first class menaces that even a massive ship like the _Eclector_ can’t contain.

“Right, I’m off.” He grabs the black synthetic leather jacket and the blaster Saal had picked out for him. To lend him credibility as an outlaw, Kraglin supposes. If that big Nova jerk only knew.

“Watch your back.” Miron says. Arzu waves and flashes him a look of worry. Kraglin recalls vaguely that her brother had been arrested and killed by the government of their planet. Peter gives him a pouty look then seems to reconsider and shrugs and grins.

***

Peter wakes up to the sound of banging and shouting. He jolts upright in his makeshift bed in a corner of the restaurant. Arzu had offered to move him upstairs to their room for the night, but he’d declined on the off chance that Kraglin would return in the middle of the night. Miron had warned him that it was unlikely, but he’d used the regular lock rather than the biometric one. But when he gets to the door, it’s not Kraglin. “What’re you doing here? Where is he?!”

“Go get an adult.” Saal’s voice is sharp and Peter notices that his eyes are bloodshot. _“Now_.”

***

Kraglin wakes up in cuffs in a small room. There are two pallets, but he’s the only occupant. The metal door looks reinforced and its small window is made of cloudy glass. It takes him a moment push through the panic and remember that this is exactly where he wants to be. He has a headache and he rubs his forehead as he remembers being captured and tazed in the middle of a market. He’d seen his assailants (a short and thin Luphomoid and a bulky Krylorian) coming but he’d pretended to be oblivious and had put up just enough of a fight to seem believable. As a result, he’d crashed into a wooden stall and torn the cheap, crappy jacket Saal had- Suddenly a new wave of terror washes over him as he grabs the corner of the jacket and inspects the torn hem where he’d sewn in a small circular government issue tracking device. He feels the terror seep through his veins. The tracker is no longer there.

***

“What do you mean you lost him track of him? I thought keeping track of him was the entire point!” Miron shouts, his face even yellower than normal.

Saal exhales. “Like I just tried to explain, we followed the tracker’s signal and found it between two kiosks in the South Market. Two of the vendors remember seeing a man who fits Obfonteri's description taken by a couple of rough-looking people who could be bounty hunters.”

“But did he lose the tracker by accident or did they find it on him?! What happened to Krags after that? Where is he now?” Peter knows his voice sounds thin and panic-stricken but he can’t bring himself to care.

“You know we can’t possibly know the answers to those questions.” Saal says, not unsympathetically.

“Well, what’s the plan now? What do you and your people intend on doing to get him back?” Miron asks as he lays a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Saal opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Peter jumps in. “Wait! You put a bounty on him, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct-”

“Then send someone to collect him and pay the bounty!”

Miron nods. “That does seem like the most sensible solution.”

“Look, I suggested it, but these criminals are careful. They only meet their clients in neutral locations and they only send two or three lackeys to collect the bounty,” Saal says with a sigh.

“So?” Peter asks. “The important thing is getting him back.” He knows he’d probably get a cuff to the back of his head if Yondu and the others were here to witness such a blatant display of sentiment. Even Kraglin wouldn’t like it, but he can’t just abandon him in a situation like this.

“Peter Quill is right,” Miron says, with narrowed eyes directed toward Saal.

“Right, I don’t disagree, but my superiors- they, well, they want to shut down this gang for good. They don’t want to scare them off again so they’ve decided to focus on finding their base.”

“But-”

“And I’m not sure they’re keen on paying an 8,000 unit bounty if they’re not going to get anything out of it, unfortunately.”

 _“What?!_ ” Peter lunges at Saal only to be held back by Miron. “This is all your fault. You pressured him into it, you stupid Nova motherfu-”

“Peter, watch your mouth!” Peter hears Miron say in a disapproving voice, but he doesn’t so much as look at him.

“If you had to send someone, you should have sent me! I’m a lot better at being bait.”

Saal raises an eyebrow and glances at Miron. “Aren’t you a little concerned about how genuine he sounded when he said that last bit?”

“I think you should go, Garthan.”

“All right, fine.” The officer walks toward the door with one last look at Peter. “But I didn’t mean for things to happen like this.”

“Come on, Peter. Let’s get you back in bed,” Miron says, wrapping one arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“I can’t sleep! I have to go look for Kraglin!”

Miron looks at him sadly. “You know you can’t do that. Come along now.” Peter opens his mouth to argue and then closes it. He suddenly feels very alone and very much like a child.

***

When they bring him food and water for the second time, Kraglin feels pretty sure that his captors didn’t find the tracker and have no reason to suspect him of anything. They’re practically ignoring him. He recognizes the guard handing him a bowl of vegetable mash now as the Luphomoid from the market. “Hey, you guys are bounty hunters, right? Can you tell me who hired you to bring me in? Tha’s all I wanna know.”

The Luphomoid makes a dismissive noise but he answers anyway. “It’s some Calurnian crime lord. Dunno the reason, but I’m guessin’ you do. Given the amount she’s payin’, I doubt she wants to invite you to lunch,” he says. He starts to slide the door shut while laughing at his own joke. “Boss hasn’t heard from them yet, but don’t think you’ll get out of it. If the Calurnians don’t come through, we’ll be sellin’ you somewhere. I dunno where exactly, but it won’t be anywhere good, that’s for sure.” Kraglin stares at the door after it closes. Saal and his people will pay to get him out, even though their sting operation turned out to be a failure, right? They’re the damn Nova Corps, after all, don’t they have principles and shit? And yet, he can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Peter walks through a busy warehouse quarter. He’s trying his best not to look too at ease, but he also doesn’t want to seem suspiciously nervous. He catches his reflection in a window and notes his scruffy appearance with satisfaction. As soon as he’d gotten a few blocks away from the restaurant, he’d stopped in a particularly filthy alley and taken the time to rub dirt and grim into his clothes and hair.

Starting from his earliest days on the _Eclector_ , Yondu had always made sure Peter was washed and in more-or-less clean clothes before leaving the ship. Once, in the midst of being physically removed from his dirty t-shirt, he’d asked why it was so important for him to be neat and tidy for shore visits when most of the Ravagers were pretty much the opposite of that all the time. Instead of giving him the smack he’d been expecting, the captain had stopped what he was doing and given Peter a long, hard look. “Child snatchers don’t just grab anyone, Quill. They groom ‘em first, usually. If they don’t got time for that, they go after the ones who seem like they ain’t bein’ looked after. That means you gotta try and look respectable when we’re planetside, got it?” He must have misinterpreted Peter’s look of surprise because he glared at him with his red eyes. “Now don’t you go thinkin’ you can wander about now,” Yondu said with a snarl and a flick to Peter’s ear. “You stay close an’ do as you’re told, boy, you hear?” Peter mostly stopped fighting the pre-shore leave hygiene routine after that, but now he wanted to be snatched so he’d done everything he could think of to look like a vulnerable street kid. Yondu would be furious if he knew, but it was the only thing he could think of to do.

Peter had been sure to be on his best behavior all morning and when he’d asked Arzu and Miron if he could walk around the market near the restaurant, they’d agreed, after he’d promised not to steal anything. He guesses he has about an hour before they realize something’s wrong. He knows they look where Kraglin’s tracker was found first so he’d decided not to go there. He tried to remember the other parts of the city Saal had said this gang operated in. He was pretty sure one of them was called “west port” something and after asking a few people, he’d ended up in somewhere called Westport Packing District. It was a bustling area filled with people moving cargo to and from ships docked in the city’s main spaceport. It did seem like a good place for bounty hunters to find their targets. So, he’d find a spot on the sidewalk and park himself. Maybe beg a little and try to look pathetic. He knows it’s not a great plan, but what else can he do all by himself? He decides to give it until sunset and then reevaluate.

***

Kraglin guesses it’s been nearly a full cycle since they grabbed him and he knows the Corps haven’t contacted the bounty hunters because the last time he’d seen the last guard he’d seen had made a point of telling him that “the Calurnians” were still unreachable and the bosses were losing patience. He’d had little to do except stew on everything that has gone wrong in his life. A life that will probably soon be cut short in some highly unpleasant way. He hopes it’ll be a quick end, anyway.

The walls of his cell are not soundproofed and he could hear the criminals laughing and talking here and there. And occasionally there was the sickeningly distinct sound of a child crying or screaming. So, it seems Saal was right about them being slavers as well as unregulated bounty hunters. His thoughts are interrupted by the loud and irritated voice of one of the guards. “Hey! Watch it, you little shit! You bite me again and I’ll gag you.”

“You sure this is a good idea, Virlu?” Asks someone else. Kraglin thinks he may be his buddy the Luphomoid.

“Maybe not, but we can’t keep him with the others. He’s too violent. Anyways, the guy's got cuffs on.” As horrible as the situation is, Kraglin can’t help but smile. It sounds like they grabbed a particularly troublesome kid. One that's almost as bad as- Before he can finish the thought, his cell door slides open and a small figure is pushed inside. A very familiar small figure with an equally familiar set of headphones hooked around his neck. Kraglin feels his mind try to drift away from the utter horror of his reality.

“Hi!” Peter says with a grin.


	7. Chapter 7

“You.” The green-skinned criminal who had pushed Peter into the cell said with a snarl while pointing a finger at Kraglin. “If you harm this boy in any way that’ll lower his price, we’ll chain you from up there and make you wish you’d never been born.” He points to a hook drilled into the ceiling. “You want that?” Kraglin is too stunned by the sudden turn of events to do anything other than shake his head. If there were any situation that genuinely couldn’t get any worse, he would have thought this were it. But then… Quill happened. As per flarkin' usual.

“He’s not gonna hurt me,” Peter says with a shrug as he leans against the cell wall.

The Luphomoid sticks his head in and looks warily from Kraglin to Peter. “You sure about that, kid? Virlu had to threaten to shoot Amjad to keep her from throttling you after you kicked her in the knee.”

“Nah, he’s my brother," Peter says. 

“What? How is that possible?” Asks the green guy (Virlu?) suspiciously.

“Hey, stop-” Kraglin begins. What is this kid thinking?

“He disappeared yesterday and I ain’t got any money or food or nothing. I was looking around the port trying to find him and you guys snatched me.” His eyes are wide and innocent. Kraglin knows it’s a well-practiced act, but they clearly don’t.

“I see, well, I guess we got two for one then. Enjoy the family reunion while it lasts, boys.” He cackles while locking them in.

“What the HELL, Pete?! Even for you this is… you know, I _should_ kill you.” He can feel hysterical panic rising in his chest. “I should find a way to get us both dead now because tha's far better than what’ll follow. You got no idea-”

“Whoa, Krags, chill. We’re not there yet.”

Something in Peter’s phrasing and tone catches Kraglin off-guard. “What d’ya mean?”

Peter sits on the floor and starts to take off his left sneaker. “Well, Yondu always says if I’m ever caught by slave merchants that I should try every possible way of escape. Only when I'm sold or about to be, should I try to grab someone’s weapon and he says to make sure it’s a surprise so they’re more likely to actually shoot me. Anyway, I think we can get out of here.” He says it all in a matter-of-fact way while digging around inside his shoe.

Kraglin just stares. “Wait, he… the cap’n said all that to you? An’ he mentioned slavers specifically?”

“Oh yeah, he goes off about it all the time. He’s worse than Mom and her “stranger danger” because at least she only made me read some dumb picture book about not helping adults you don’t know look for their lost puppy. Yondu locked me in a cell and kept me in there for three days until I could figure out how to escape!”

“I remember that. A few month cycles ago, right? I thought it was just because you was being a brat and antagonizing Horuz again.”

“That might have been a contributing factor,” Peter admits, “but it’s when he gave me these.” He shows Kraglin the two thin pieces of metal he’d dug out from the lining of his shoe.

“Lock picks… you had those-”

“They were in my boots, but I took them out when we sold them. I think Miron saw me but he didn’t say anything.” He holds them in his hand and sighs. “Captain told me to keep them on me at all times because a lot of the time slavers go for old school locks because of all the hacking tech out there for the electrical ones. But here, well, it looks like they’ll work on your handcuffs, but the not on the door’s lock.”

“Yeah, no, it’s biometric,” says Kraglin, momentarily distracted, “the security is surprising high-tech for this type of operation. I took a go at it and there’s no way we’re disabling it from in here without any equipment.”

Peter glances around the room. “I think this is a hospital.”

“Huh?”

“The building is all boarded up, but when they brought me in I saw a sign and I could read some of the words. I think it said “specialized medical center” or something like that.”

Kraglin nods. “If it used to be a private clinic, that would explain the security. It’s not the most updated system but it’s good. I guess they hacked into it and got it up and running when they decided to set up here.”

Peter lies down on one of the pallets and stretches out. “So how are we going to break out?”

“I’m still not sure we can.”

“Ah, c’mon Kraglin. There has to be a way. You’re good at plans!”

“Hm.”

***

Peter screams as loud as his lungs will allow. “Help me! He’s gonna kill me! HELP!” The door wooshes open and the Luphomoid guard rushes in, gun pointed at Kraglin who has Peter pinned to wall and one hand wrapped around his neck.

“What the- Let him go!” The guard shouts.

“Pete, I’m tryin’ to save you from somethin’ worse. You don’t understand-”

“I said, let him go.” The blaster is inches from the Xandarian’s head.

Kraglin releases his grip and Peter falls to the floor gasping. “All right, but I was only tryin’ to protect ‘im from you slaver filth.”

“By murdering him? Anyone ever tell you you’re a shitty brother? And how did you get your cuffs-” But he’s cut off mid-sentence by the appearance of a knife at his neck.

“Drop the blaster,” Peter says.

“Not so fast,” says a voice from the door. Virlu is standing in the doorway with a gun in each hand. “Adil, you idiot! What did I tell you about going into cells alone?” He turns his attention toward Peter. “Let my inept coworker go, brat, or you and your scumbag brother will both be vaporized.” Peter lets the knife fall from his hand. “And didn’t you guys search him? I know the kid didn’t have a knife on him.”

“We did! I have no idea where he had that hidden!”

“Well, we obviously can’t keep ‘em together anymore. Good thing I was coming to get the kid anyway.” He smirks at Kraglin. “We got him a potential buyer. I was gonna send him off with the rest of them brats, but the Kree pay a lot more.” As he’s pulled out of the room, Peter sees Kraglin’s face freeze.

“Listen to me, you sell this kid to the Kree and there won’t be anywhere in the universe where you’ll be safe! You’re be signing your own death warrants and mine too, so you might as well kill me now!” Kraglin shouts.

Virlu snorts. “Nah, you might not be worth much, but you’re not worth anything to us dead. Adil, put those cuffs back on and, I don’t know, chain him to the wall or something.”

Peter is grabbed by a Krylorian and taken down a long corridor into what was obviously once a waiting room. All of the tables and chairs are covered up and there are three Kree standing in the middle of the space. Off to the side of them, on the floor, is a bound reptilian-looking person with a black cloth bag over their head. Peter stops struggling in order to get a good look at the Kree. Two of them (one with dark brown skin and one as pale as him) are obviously soldiers and the sort Peter has seen many times in bars outside of Nova space, often with an arrow hole or two if they’d said the wrong thing to Yondu, which could be anything really, depending on his mood and level of inebriation. The other one, though, is wearing a hooded cloak and has deep blue skin. He knows the blue-skinned minority hold most of the power on Hala. He also knows that it’s them Yondu reserves most of his hatred for, but what he doesn’t know is why. Lots of the Ravagers are from the Nova Empire and have animosity toward the Kree because of the generations-long war, but Peter knows there has to be more to it than that. He’d asked Tullk once, but all he got for an answer was that it wasn’t his story to tell.

The hooded Kree looks Peter up and down and then turns to Virlu. “And why exactly would you think I’d be interested in this… ordinary-looking humanoid? I’m pleased that your organization was able to obtain the person we sought and I’m ready to transfer the full bounty amount, but we need to get out of Nova space as soon as possible.”

Virlu hands him a data pad. “I realize that, but I think you should watch this.” Even from where he’s being held, Peter can see it’s security camera footage of when they first brought him in and he’d managed to slip out of the grip of the person holding him with the help of a well-placed elbow and when he was caught by a second guard he’d used the kick-to-the-knee technique Yondu had taught him early on in their fighting sessions. Then back-up had arrived and he’d been properly restrained, which had been fine with Peter as he had just wanted to scope out the facility rather than trying to escape

“You’re right, that is interesting. Where exactly did you find this boy?”

The leader of the criminals looks puzzled. “Here on Tobalis II.”

“You’re sure he’s not from one of our outposts?”

“I’ve told you all I know. We have a prisoner here with a bounty on him and the boy claims he's his brother, but the blood tests taken on arrival show they’re not related or even the same species. Maybe they grew up on the streets together? Otherwise, I don’t know anything about his origins.”

“I see. Well, I suppose there will be time to figure it out. I’m taking him.”

“Oh, uh, excellent, but about the price…”

“Anything you ask, within reason.” The Kree says, disinterestedly. He turns toward his guards. “Get a wrist cuff for him so he’ll be easier to control on the way back to the ship.”

“Hey, wait! You really don’t want me! I’m a huge nuisance and there’s a whole ship full of people who would say you’re making a huge mistake.”

“Er, he does have a bit of a mouth on him.” Virlu says, apologetically.

“Right, gag him and keep an eye on him and don’t forget to make sure the shuttle waits by the back door,” the Kree says, addressing his men. “I’m going to settle payment and we’ll be on our way.”

***

Kraglin watches Peter get dragged away before the cell door slides shut. He waits until the bumbling Luphomoid reaches down for the cuffs and body slams him with all his skinny body’s considerable strength, grabbing the guy’s gun before he even knows what happened. “OK, buddy, you’re going to tell me where to find the boy and how many I’ll be facing when I get there and it better be the truth if you don’t wanna end the day in a pool of your own blood.”

His hostage raises his hands in a sign of surrender. “You don’t have to threaten me. I’ll help.”

Kraglin looks at him in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Look, I was OK with the bounty hunting part, but not the… other stuff. I know I should have gotten out or said something, but it’s not easy.” The guy looks genuinely ashamed. Kraglin would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way about a certain series of jobs that no one on the _Eclector_ ever talks about.

“All right, then. You know this place. Tell me how you think we should proceed.”


	8. Chapter 8

Peter had tried to struggle against the Kree guard who grabbed ahold of him, but he had promptly got a blaster shoved into his face. He knows what Yondu would want him to do, but he can’t bring himself to do it, not yet. The other guard had disappeared and returned with a small circle of gray plastic. It reminds Peter of the bangles his mom used to wear, except this one can expand to find over his hand and shrink to fit his wrist and when it gets tight against his skin he feels a sudden sharp pain that makes him bite his lip. “That should keep you in line, boy.” The first guard says with a snicker. “Let me demonstrate.” He pushes something on his comm and a strong electric shock shoots up Peter’s arm and this time the pain is enough to cause him to cry out and drop to his knees.

The important boss Kree who’s in the corner discussing payment with Virlu looks over to Peter and the guards. “Careful, Sen-Tal, I don’t want him damaged yet.”

“Apologies, Accuser.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna wanna let that kid go.” Peter blinks the tears out of his eyes just enough to see Kraglin standing in the doorway with a dark look on his face and a rifle. And, strangely, the Luphomoid from before is next to him, a blaster in each hand.

“Amjad! Dreyin!” Virlu shouts into his comm.

“Sorry, boss, but they won’t be able to help you much,” the Luphomoid says.

***

Kraglin looks with satisfaction at the defeated slavers and buyers seated against the wall and bound in cuffs and leg shackles. The good part about this being a trafficking operation is the abundance of restraints available. Personally, he was leaning toward not taken prisoners in this particular instance, but Peter had pointed out that it might not be the best time to piss off Saal and his Nova Corps bosses. “What d’ya think, Pete? Guess we should call the Corps now, huh?”

The boy looks at the hostages and then back up at him with his nose all wrinkled up. “I guess, but I sort of wish we could call Yondu instead.”

Kraglin grins and and stretches an arm out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Me too, kid.”

***

Peter sits in a chair with a blanket wrapped around him and looks over to where two senior officers are debriefing Kraglin. The Corps had swarmed in and freed the other captives and carted away the criminals. The presence of a Kree Accuser had escalated things to the level of an intergalactic incident and had certainly increased the tension and amount of personnel that had been called in. He’s glad it’s all over, but now he just wants to go back somewhere safe and comfortable. He looks down at the band on his wrist and he knows he should probably tell Kraglin and the others about it, but that would only delay things. He pulls his sleeve over the awful thing; they can deal with it later.

“How are you holding up?” It’s Saal.

“Uh, OK, I guess.”

“You know, what you did was more than reckless and-”

Peter bristles. “I know, but I didn’t have a choice! Kraglin-”

“And extremely brave, I was going to say.” He smiles. “You might even make a good Nova officer one day.”

“Really? You think that?”

Saal shrugs his shoulders. “Why not? Just don’t commit any felonies in the meantime.”

***

< The _Eclector_ >

< Three and a half day cycles later >

Kraglin can’t help but smile as he walks through the ship. They’ve been back for coming up on two day cycles and only now is he starting to feel comfortable again. It’s been good to get back to his life’s simple routines and be surrounded by the other Ravagers again. It’s also nice not to spend every waking moment worrying about a reckless Terran brat. He hasn’t seen Peter at all since they got back, actually. Not that he cares or anything. He gets to the bridge and peeks in. To his surprise, the captain is there alone, slouched in a pilot’s chair and staring out into space. Well, not quite alone because Peter is there too, scrubbing the metal floor on his hands and knees with his headphones over his ears. “Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on, Pete?”

“Huh? Oh, Kraglin. What?”

“Are- are you actually putting effort into _cleaning_?”

“Yeah, because the captain said if I did a good job he might not space my new shoes,” he says, pointing to where the sneakers are perched on a nav station, safe from the soapy water. The mention of Yondu reminds Kraglin of why he’s here.

“Er, you wanted to see me, Cap’n?”

Yondu turns around. “Yeah. That’s enough for now, Quill. Why don’t you go to the canteen or something?”

Peter stands up and stretches. Kraglin notices that he has a bandage wrapped around his left wrist. He wonders how the kid managed to injure himself in the short time they’ve been back. “Ok, but-”

The captain looks over at him. “What?”

“What’s a “felony”?” He asks awkwardly. Kraglin and Yondu exchange glances.

“Why d’ya wanna know?” Kraglin asks.

“Uh, no reason. But have I ever done any?”

Kraglin stifles a laugh while Yondu glares at the kid. “Get the hell outta here and go get yourself dinner. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“Alright, fine.” Peter says as he grabs his shoes and slips them on. “Hey, Krags. There’s something I-”

The captain cuts him off. “Don’t think I won’t whistle, boy.” Peter gulps and scurries off the bridge.

“Right, Obfonteri. I need you to work on a navigation shift schedule that’ll keep us covered for the next month cycle, at least.”

Kraglin knows the surprise is evident on his face. “Um, aye, Cap’n.” He takes a deep breath. “Don’t take this as a complaint, ‘cause it ain’t, but that’s the second mate’s job, no?”

“Yeah, it is, but I haven't had one of those since the previous occupant of the post didn’t come back from his leave. Seems he was killed in a barfight.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, though it’s a lie. The guy was a drunk and an a-hole. “So, what you’re sayin’ is-”

The captain scowls at him. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“No! Definitely not, boss. I won’t let you down.”

“You’d better not. Where do you think you’re goin’? You sit yourself down. We’re gonna have a little chat.”

Kraglin sits. “About my new duties?”

Yondu shakes his head. “Nah, I know you’ve been picking up the slack every time Gyrkil went on a bender. Doubt you’ll have any trouble.” Kraglin feels his cheeks flush at the compliment. “See, I’m hoping you’ll be a bit more forthcoming on a certain subject than Quill was.” The captain’s voice is even and calm, which for some reason only increases the sense of dread Kraglin suddenly feels.

“Yes, Cap’n?” Surely he wouldn’t promote him only to fill him full of holes and throw him out an airlock? Right?

“We can start with something easy. Like why did my- why did the boy came back wearing a Kree slave cuff? You really thought I wouldn’t notice it?”

“Oh.”

***

< Nova Corps headquarters on Krylor, Serious Crimes Division >

< Three years later >

“Excuse me, sir. I’ve got the report you wanted.”

Saal looks up from the screen he was using. “Come in, Corpsman Levinto. You mean the one on that Ravager faction that’s been working this system? Anything useful in it?”

“Well, that broker we caught spilled everything, but he didn’t have much we didn’t already know.”

“Damn, too bad.”

The corpsman scrolls through the notes on the data pad. “But he did give us the names of some of the Ravagers who were at the last meeting they had with them. Some of them are either new recruits or ones we just didn’t know about.”

“OK, and?”

“We already know the captain, Yondu Udonta, of course. Then there was a Krylorian named Oblo and Taloy, an A’askavarian.”

“All right, log them for future reference, I guess.

“The first mate was there as well.”

“That would be Naz Kolveta?”

“No, sir. Apparently Kolveta died in a recent battle. The new first is someone called Kraglin Obfonteri, possibly a Xandarian.” Levinto is staring down at the report so she doesn’t see Saal’s expression freeze. “Oh, and there was another humanoid. The informant said he looked to be a teenager and that his name seemed to be Peter Quill.” She does notice when her commander jumps up and starts kicking his desk.

“Shit, shit, shit! What in the bloody hells, Garthan?! You gullible idiot!”

Corpsman Tasleen Levinto knows Saal is a brilliant officer. He’s skilled and clever and almost certainly on a fast track to a cushy job in the capital, but he clearly has some emotional issues.

***

< The _Quadrant_ >

< 21 years later >

 “ _Tobalis_? But why? You need to explain to me why we’re going four jumps out of our way just to get to some shitty Nova outpost,” Rocket says with an exaggerated scowl.

Kraglin looks up from the bridge’s navigation controls to glare at him. “Except cap’ns don’t gotta explain stuff.”

“I think you know by now that that’s not how we do things, you scrawny-.”

“Dude, language. You’re right, Rocket but we’re still going to Tobalis.” Peter says, sprawled out in one of the pilot seats with his Zune in his hand. “And I already told you why.”

“Yeah, but I don’t buy it. You’re dropping off a gift for somebody’s new grandkid? That’s not credible.”

“I am Groot.” The small tree-like being who had, until that point, been playing a puzzle game on a data pad looks up with a pouty expression.

“What are you talking about? You get lots of gifts.” Peter sighs. “Like I said, they’re old friends of Kraglin’s and I kinda know them too.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Rocket returns his attention to the controls he’d been repairing.

“It- look, it’s not a big deal. If you or anyone else want to come along when we get there, you can.” Peter notices Kraglin shoot him a look. “Uh, if that’s OK with you, Krags.”

The Ravager shrugs. “Up to you, Pete.”

“It’s just… well.”

“What?” Rocket asks.

“These people, they might kind of think I’m Kraglin’s brother.”

Rocket drops the tool he was holding. “What?!”

“It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, and one you’re gonna tell us right now.”

Kraglin shakes his head. “I’ll get the booze.”


End file.
